


a change of heart

by Brieoftarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I hope at least, endgame will be brienne/jaime, i am sorry but the end result will be worth it, unfortunately we're going to have to sit through some mentions of twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22420282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brieoftarth/pseuds/Brieoftarth
Summary: What if Brienne and Cersei woke up to find they have switched bodies? A Freaky Friday inspired fic, encouraged by Leslie. :)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, mentions of cersei/jaime
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne had only ever been in Kings Landing once before. Her father had allowed her to accompany him when she was 13. As soon as the city was in sight, Brienne could remember the disappointment she had felt. She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but she certainly did not think the city would smell so awful, she did not think that they would have to climb over or dodge homeless people on the streets. It was definitely a whole other world compared to Tarth. Although her isle was not rich, not by a long mile, her father made sure that everyone had a warm bed to sleep in at night at the very least. He made sure that none of his people were hungry, and the people were friendly. 

It was exactly how she remembered it. Perhaps worse now that she was a woman grown. 

Jaime had turned to her on his horse and rolled his eyes as she tilted her chin up and looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with him. She had barely said a word to anyone when they had found out about Lady Catelyn, and it went unspoken, but Jaime had held her as she sobbed and wailed. He glared at anyone who dared comment on her grief. She had done the same for him when they had learned that his son, Joffrey, had been murdered at his wedding. He hadn’t sobbed, he hadn’t really cried, but she had wrapped him up in her arms and made him feel safe, even if it was only temporary. They would hold each other through the night, huddled under blankets and fur, but come morning they would untangle from each other without a word. 

As they approached the city gates, Jaime had fallen behind so he could speak in private with Brienne. 

“Lady Brienne. You ought to know that we won’t see very much of each other while we’re here, but I can assure you that you’ll be given a warm bed to sleep in and Lady Arya and Lady Sansa will be put in your care as soon as I can make it happen. You will have to be patient. My sister is not a forgiving woman, and I’ll have to conjure up a plan.” 

Brienne just nodded, and Jaime couldn’t help but notice that her were still sad. There was a dullness to the usually intense blue, and he found that he didn’t like it. 

“I trust you.” She eventually muttered. 

\---------- 

Brienne had been shown to her chambers. They were basic, with just a featherbed and a wash basin. There was a small desk that held nothing but a small mirror, which Brienne had turned to face the wall. She tried to sleep, even if only for an hour, but her mind was clouded with thoughts of Jaime, of Lady Catelyn, of Renly. Her fingers trailed over the bandage over the claw marks that the bear had left on her skin, and winced at the sharp pain. 

“I dreamed of you,” he had said to her. She wondered how the dream compared to the dreams she had. Ever since he had saved her, her dreams of Renly had slowly dwindled into nothing. Jaime replaced him. When she dreamed of living a highborn lady’s life in Tarth, her husband was no longer Renly Baratheon, but Jaime Lannister. The thought made her agitated, and she couldn’t sit alone in the room with nothing but her thoughts for much longer. 

Jaime had warned Brienne about travelling through the city by herself. ‘It’s not a place for highborn woman to roam around alone,’ he had told her, and she scoffed at him as she took her leave. She didn’t understand that he was not trying to be condescending, he was trying to be protective. He was well aware that his stubborn wench was not going to listen to her, so he pressed the hilt of a dagger in her hand and told her to be careful. 

As she walked through the streets of King’s Landing, she was thankful for the dagger. No one approached her but she had noticed several men judge her size. Her grip tightened on it as she wandered deeper into the city, and she knew she would have to hurry before it got dark. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to find her way back to her quarters come nightfall. 

She found a small seamstress shop, and admired the stitching on a pair of breeches that hung up outside the shop. The fabric was good quality, and the stitching was better than what she had ever been able to do. Before she could enquire about anything, she felt someone tug on the hem of her tunic. A small child looked up at her, skinnier than any child she had ever seen, with pleading eyes and his hands outstretched. Instead of giving him coins, she took one of his outstretched hands and took him over to a bakers store. She bought him a small loaf, and crouched down to the small boys height. “Take it home to your family.” She then pressed a silver stag into the palm of his hand after she had ensured no one had been watching them. He had pressed a soft kiss to Brienne’s cheek, and turned on his heel and ran away as quickly as he had appeared. 

When she returned to the seamstress shop, she was greeted by an older woman who was huddled over a walking stick. “My lady,” she gave her a smile, and Brienne gave her a polite smile. 

“I was admiring your work. The stitching is wonderful,” Brienne spoke, her hand trailing over the breeches she had been looking at before she was interrupted. “If it wouldn’t be too bothersome, I would appreciate it if you were able to make me a pair. I struggle to find breeches that fit my legs. I’ll pay you well, of course.” 

Without another word, the woman hurried Brienne into the back of her store. “It would be an honour to cater for you, my lady.”

“What is your name?” 

“Lanna. And yours?” 

“Brienne. Brienne of Tarth.” 

“Daughter of Selwyn.” 

Brienne hoped she could hide the surprise on her face. She nodded, letting the woman measure her waist. 

“A good man. I’ve heard what he does for your isle. You won’t find that anywhere else.” 

Brienne, again, nodded in agreement. 

“And it would seem like you take after him. Legs apart please.” 

“I’m sorry?” Brienne asked, but did as she was told, and looked down at Lanna as she measured the inside of her leg.

“You didn’t have to give that child anything. Any other highborn lady would have told him to leave. You have a kind heart. I can see it in your eyes. There’s a sadness to them too, my child.” 

Brienne clenched her jaw to stop tears prickling in her eyes, and swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared straight ahead. 

“I - I think that I’m in love,” she whispered, and she wasn’t sure why the words had tumbled out of her mouth. It felt wrong, saying the words out loud, but Gods it felt like a weight was slowly being lifted from her shoulders, so she continued. “But his heart is taken. And when he talks about her, his eyes light up. They have a... They have a strange relationship, to say the very least. But I’ve found myself wishing that I could be her. Or that I could look like her. He said she’s the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. And here I am, the ugliest woman in the kingdom, falling for him harder every time I see him.” 

“You deserve happiness, child.” 

Brienne sniffled. She had barely even realised that she had started to cry. Lanna passed her a cloth handkerchief to dry her eyes, and Brienne quietly thanked her. 

“These will be ready for you in the morning. I’ll get to work straight away, and I’ll have them delivered to the Red Keep.” 

“How did you know-” 

“Lucky guess.” 

Lanna had smiled at her, and Brienne returned it, although the older woman was starting to make her feel slightly uneasy. Despite her worries, Brienne passed her a gold dragon and left the small shop to make her way home for the evening. 


	2. Chapter 2

There was something strange about the way Cersei now looked at Jaime. From the moment he entered her chamber doors and looked at his bandaged stump, he knew things weren’t going to be the same with his other half. She had almost sneered at him as he reached for her, and he didn’t know how to describe the look in her eyes. It wasn’t a look of pity for the hand he had lost, nor was it a look of fondness or happiness that he was finally home, able to be in her arms like he had longed for. It was almost a look of hatred, of sheer distaste for the man he now was. 

“Cersei,” he almost whimpered, and he made the mistake of reaching out to wrap his right arm around her waist.

“Don’t touch me with that... with that... thing!” She squealed, grasping the stump roughly in her hand as she pushed it away from her. His wound still hadn’t healed completely, so he hissed in pain and held it protectively to his chest as it stung and ached, much like how his heart now felt. 

“I’m still the same man, Cersei. I’m still the other half of you.” 

Cersei only laughed, raising her wine glass to her lips as she shook her head. She turned her back to him, and Jaime longed to reach out and stroke her hair, bury his nose in the golden blonde tresses that he had ached for each night. 

“You’re barely even half the man that left here, Jaime. Tell me, what is a swordsman without his swordhand?” 

“You’re drunk, Cersei.” 

“Nothing, Jaime. That’s what you are. Nothing, but a mutilated cripple. And you think, you truly think, that I would let a man with nothing to offer into my bed?” Her laugh was cruel, wicked as Jaime still kept his stump pressed against his chest. “Yes. I had to seek comfort in wine because you left me, for so long. Why don’t you go find the great big cow that you lumbered home with you?” 

“I’d thank you not to speak of Lady Brienne like that, sweet sister. She brought me home to you. She protected me.” 

“She protected you?” Again, Cersei sneered as she got up from her seat, and crossed her chambers to stand in front of Jaime. “She didn’t do a very good job now, did she?” 

Jaime felt her hand smack against his cheek before he had time to even register what had happened. 

“And I’d thank you not to speak to your queen like that, sweet brother,” she mocked, downing whatever was left in the rest of her cup. “Now leave. You’ve made me feel quite nauseous. And I’m sure I can smell the rotting flesh more and more with each minute you stand there, like a pathetic idiot.” 

Just as Jaime was about to take his leave, there was a gentle tap at the door. 

“I had a nightmare again, mother.” Tommen’s voice came from the other side, and Cersei rubbed her temples with her forefinger and thumb. 

“I told you, Tommen. Future kings do not have nightmares. Go back to bed,” she snapped, and Jaime winced at the harsh tone of her voice. He never heard her speak that way to Joff. 

“Tell the guards to escort him back to his chambers. He’s too soft, much like his uncle.” 

Jaime ignored her wishes and dismissed Tommen’s guards, before taking the young boys hand as he escorted his son back to his room himself. He knelt down on one knee as they stopped outside Tommen’s door, and wiped the tears away from his stained cheeks. 

“You’ll be a great king. Fair and just. I believe in you, Tommen.” He told him, before ushering him inside to go back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be a loooong one so probably will not be updated as often as my other fic/oneshots because i want the chapters on this to be a bit lengthier :) please let me know if you like it!! 
> 
> also i just made a tumblr, evenstaroftarth.tumblr.com :c


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